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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27845128">Reborn In Westeros</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katalina_84/pseuds/Katalina_84'>Katalina_84</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, Self-Insert</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 21:34:16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,249</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27845128</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katalina_84/pseuds/Katalina_84</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A forty year old modern American woman dies tragically and finds herself reborn as Lynara Stark, twin of Robb Stark. Some modern knowledge to a medieval society, some how to keep my favorite characters from being killed off. This is my story to tell. Don't like it, read something else.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ned Stark/Catelyn Tully Stark</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>112</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. WTF?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I own nothing. I will try to stay as true to the TV show and books as possible, but their may be some bleed over from other fanfictions that are just too good to not use. I welcome constructive criticism, but don't answer comments directly. Enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Pain.</p><p>The last sensation I remember as I feel my life ending. Pain so great there is no room in my mind for any other thought other than, “I am dying.”</p><p>Not a question or an exclamation, simply a statement of fact.</p><p>No more time for any plans or goals, just an end to the life of a single 40-year-old, American women, who made a career out of caring for others in their home. Would I be missed? By some, but not by many outside family. A freak car crash and it is all over.</p><p>I was raised in various protestant churches.  I had certain expectations about what happens to a soul after death.  Needless to say, what I found was <span class="u">NOTHING</span> like what I expected.</p><p>Pain.</p><p>My first sensation after the momentary nothingness that I instinctively know is death. Pain and a feeling of being shoved into a space so small that my mind feels like it is a sausage about to split from its casing.</p><p>Bright. Loud. Cold.</p><p>These are my next three sensations as I struggle to regain some mental and emotional equilibrium. Next, I feel my body (which does not feel right <span class="u">at all</span>) being lifted, wiped clean and wrapped in a scratchy cloth. I hear talking, and yelling, but there are so many voices I can’t make out many words.</p><p>“healthy ….. breathe ……. PUSH!”</p><p>More screaming prompts, me to try and open my eyes but everything is blurry and far too bright. I hear a baby cry and exclamations of “A BOY!”</p><p>I try to move my head to look toward the noise, but I have next to no control over my own body. I am lifted again and set against warm flesh, some of which is pushed into my mouth. A warm fluid flows into my mouth and I instinctively drink it greedily.</p><p>I hear a deep fatherly voice say “Two healthy children. Congratulations, my Lady.”</p><p>That’s when it clicks: all the sensations, all the words, what exactly I am guzzling down.</p><p>Holy Shit! I have just been born again! Literally!</p><p>WTF!?!</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Frustration</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Have you ever had that nightmare that you’re back in high school, wandering the halls, maybe missing some essential piece of clothing?  Total embarrassment ensues and no matter how fast you run you can never escape.</p><p>No? Guess that was just me.</p><p>Let me tell you there is no embarrassment quite like having a 40-year-old mind and having no control over your bladder and bowels. It gives you a whole new perspective on nursing homes being a type of Hell on Earth.</p><p>Also, the absolute frustration of having to relearn how to control every single muscle in your body. From eyebrows to toes, I flopped around like a fish out of water and was a weak as well … a newborn. Again, huge props to anyone who has undergone intensive physical therapy.</p><p>At six months (or moons as they say here), I must admit I could be a difficult child.  While I had always known the words to ask for what I needed, I had only recently developed the control to produce any consistent sounds to communicate. Crawling, being more physical then mental, was even harder as my body needed time to develop muscles. I had just begun to stand regularly and focused on teaching my brothers to do the same.</p><p>So why was I a difficult baby? I was frustrated! The slow progress of gaining control of this body coupled with a near inability to communicate would made anyone scream. Add to that the sheer utter boredom of being forced to stare indefinitely at whatever my body was pointed at. For a mind used to TV, movies, and the internet, it was like a slow water torture of boredom.</p><p>The one thing I could do was listen. Adults speak relatively freely in front of infants because they assume the child cannot understand them.  Not so with me. Every word, voice, and undercurrent were recorded in my starved brain and tucked away for further analysis.</p><p>That was one huge change from my last life. In my first life my thoughts and memories were much like a large plate of spaghetti. Lots of good information there but messily organized and difficult to retrieve quickly. Perhaps it was the new body or the time on my hands to restructure, but my memories were now organized much more like a card catalog that I could rifle through at whim. That is not to say I had perfect recall, but it was much improved.</p><p>By listening and filing away information, I had come to realize where I had been reborn: Westeros, House Stark, daughter of Eddard and Catelyn Stark, twin sister to Robb. I had been named Lynara.</p><p>When I first put all the pieces together, I was sure I was in some version of Hell.  On my bad days, I still have those fleeting thoughts.</p><p>On my good days, I plan (to keep my sanity). I have been reborn with memories of my last life on another planet (possibly another dimension). I therefore conclude that there must exist a being with “god” level power for that to happen. This “god”, for lack of a better term, must either care what happens to the new planet or be looking for entertainment.  Who this “god” is and how and/or whether it should be worshiped, I have tabled for another time. Definitely ruled out the Seven though, their policies on bastards alone makes my blood boil.</p><p>Do I know the GOT back story, you wonder? Yes, I do. Another point toward the “This is Hell” theory. I have been reborn into a book/TV show. Haven’t gathered enough info from my crib to tell which one just yet.</p><p>I mentioned my brothers before; that would be my twin Robb Stark, the Heir of Winterfell, and Jon Snow, the Bastard of Winterfell. I have always had a deep and intense love of my family. So, while I remember and deeply mourn the loss of my first life family, I have fully accepted the Stark family as my own.  The possible exception being my mother Catelyn Stark. Her treatment of Jon and her religious fervor which feeds her deep fear of magic divides us. I cannot change how I was born and when she learns of the truth, she will likely fear me.  If she can be so cruel to Jon for something he cannot change, what might she do to me?</p><p>As I said … frustration.</p><p>Back to my plans. I love this new family; I don’t want them to die. War is eventually coming for us from the South and the North. <span class="u">Monsters</span> are coming for us! I am not like my aunt Lyanna. I have no desire to ride into battle, possibly to die <span class="u">again</span>. But any endeavor can be made or broken on logistics, something I excel at.</p><p>But how do I get them to listen to me? Not only am I a child, but a <span class="u">girl</span>, a walking baby-maker even here in the North.</p><p>So, as my nurse maid Jenna sets me down for a nap after a good feed, I stare once again at the ceiling and plan.</p><p> </p><p>God!! Of all the things to miss, a baby mobile just to break up the monotony!</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>As always, I welcome constructive criticism, but I don't answer questions directly. Thanks for the interest.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Observations</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Jenna Reflects on her charges oddities.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jenna POV</p>
<p>Jenna knew how lucky she was.</p>
<p>Though she was heavily pregnant, her husband had been called up to serve in Lord Tully’s army in the war against the Targaryens. “A good opportunity for coin.” Her Darin had told her, though they both knew he had no choice. A week after he left, she had given birth to a son, a son that would never know his father.</p>
<p>Almost 9 moons later, Lord Tully’s daughter, the new Lady Stark, gave birth to twins. Jenna knew it was only luck and the blessing of the gods that saw her hired as a wet nurse for the newborns, just as her little Darin was beginning to eat table food. A chance to provide for her son who would inherit next to nothing from his father.</p>
<p>Without a husband to tie her to the Riverlands, Jenna and little Darin followed Lady Stark and her children north to her new home in Winterfell. She was there when Lady Stark presented her new husband, who had survived the war, with two healthy children: an heir and a daughter.  She had also been witness to the moment that Lord Stark had presented Lady Stark with his bastard son Jon Snow, who was nearly the same age as Lady Stark’s twins.</p>
<p>What a way to start a marriage.</p>
<p>Jenna knew her place, however. Her job was to feed and care for children not to debate or critique the inner workings of her Lord and Lady’s marriage.</p>
<p>The development of said children, and how they interacted with each other was, on the other hand, something she debated constantly with Wylla, the other wet nurse.</p>
<p>Wylla was from Dorne, where Lord Stark and apparently hired her for Jon. Unlike Jenna, her child had supposedly died in a fever, though Jenna knew Lady Stark suspected she might be Jon’s birth mother. Wylla did not like to speak of her past or Dorne much so they mostly spoke about the children.</p>
<p>Almost from the beginning, Jenna could tell there was something different about the little girl Lynara. She did not cry nearly as much as her twin Robb. She never cried to be held or comforted, only when she wanted something.  And once she had it, she stopped crying almost immediately. Unless, of course, she was having one of her rare temper tantrums when she would scream and wave and kick in such a fury Jenna sometimes feared she would hurt herself. Nothing could calm or distract her at such times and even her brothers had learned not to interrupt until she was tired out. Then all was well again, and the child would either sleep or go back to watching everything with all too perceptive eyes.</p>
<p>The child also learned so fast! Her son Darin was 9 moons older than the infant, but at nearly one-year-old, she seemed to be teaching him words. She was also the first of the younger three to learn to walk at only 7 moons. She soon got her brothers to mimic her, but she was always the first.</p>
<p>And that was what set the hairs on the back of Jenna’s neck on end. The intent, the focus, the utter deliberation with which this infant girl spent every moment of her day. On an instinctual level it frightened Jenna and she might have pulled her son away, if not for three things.</p>
<p>First, everything Lynara had tried to teach the boys was good. How to walk and move better, how to speak better. Jenna had even seen her break up slapping fights before she had the chance.</p>
<p>Second, Lynara was very loving of her brothers. She was constantly hugging and kissing them on the cheek and calling them “Bubber.” She also included Jenna’s Darin in the hugs and kisses, but always called him by name instead of “Bubber.” She would also clap and cheer for all three whenever they did something new.</p>
<p>Finally, there was the incident with the fireplace.</p>
<p>That day was particularly cold, so we had the fire high in the nursery. Both Robb and Jon were quite fussy so Lynara and Darin were playing quietly across the room near the fireplace as Wylla and I tried to sooth them. Suddenly a gust of wind came blasting down the chimney causing a large fiery log to roll several feet out of the fireplace, directly at my son Darin’s face. Across the room with Lord Robb in my Arms, I had no chance of reaching my son.</p>
<p>But little Lady Lynara jumped on his back and rolled them both out of the way to the log. The log rolled by the two children scorching the carpet and some of the Lady’s hair.  Dropping the other boys in their cribs, Wylla and I doused the embers and checked on the children.  Other than Lynara’s hair, neither child had suffered any harm.</p>
<p>If I had not seen it with my own eyes, I would never had believed the story. That was the moment I accepted it. Whatever it was that made Lady Lynara different from other children allowed her to protect my son from great harm and possibly death. From that day on, no one could say a bad word about her or her oddities in my presence.</p>
<p>That did not change the fact that she was odd. She behaved in ways I knew her mother would not approve of. Such as treating her bastard bother Jon with as much love and affection as her twin bother Robb. Lady Stark had already encouraged me to separate the twins from Jon as much as possible. But with four children and two nurse maids, working with Wylla was so much easier.</p>
<p>Also, the few times I had tried it, Lady Lynara had thrown one of her rare fits and even encouraged both Lord Robb and Darin to participate until Jon was brought back. As soon as they were together again, peace reigned. Of that pack, she was the Alpha, and she knew it.</p>
<p>I truly feared the day that either Lord or Lady Stark tried to discipline her. I had no idea who would win such a confrontation.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Sorry this posted late. The day got away from me.</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is the first fic I've written past the second chapter. I have several written and will hopefully be posting once a week. I welcome comments, but will likely not reply. Writing is hard enough.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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